Precious Memories
by MyGirlCrais
Summary: This was the first fic I ever wrote! Crais meets an old flame, needless to say it doesn't have a happy ending.
1. Chapter 1

'Precious Memories'  
  
Disclaimer: Not mine, I just write these stories anyway.  
  
Timing: Early Season 3 I suppose, I can't remember exactly when I wrote it. No specific spoilers I can think of.  
  
Feedback: Always good.  
  
A/N: This was my first ever Farscape fic, it needs a permanent home so I'm posting it here. I hope you like it.  
  
Chapter 1  
  
Crais groaned and rolled over. He'd gone to bed over two arns ago and he was still awake.  
  
He hated nights like this.  
  
It was funny how the things he'd done as a Peacekeeper had never kept him awake when he did them, they did now. Memories of killing, hurting, things he'd prefer to keep buried. But they weren't the worst. What was keeping him up right now was something different. It wasn't memories of violence, it was memories of fear.   
  
He hated being afraid.  
  
Maybe it wouldn't have been so bad if it was bloody battlegrounds and dying soldiers floating through his brain that made him afraid. But it wasn't. He'd never admit it to anyone, but the only thing that had ever made him truly afraid was a woman.  
  
Pres, Presa, Officer Benari. Her name was always in his head, just like the memory of her face. She'd been dead for more than ten cycles now. No, not dead, but as good as. Her body intact, her mind rewired to hate everything she'd once cared about - and everyone, to be a real Peacekeeper. She'd never been a good one, she'd been conscripted too late, her early lessons had stuck. He'd seen it the moment they met - she was the only Peacekeeper he'd ever met who smiled.  
  
That was the worst part of the story - how they met. Assigned birthings had always seemed a sensible idea until he was part of it. Being assigned someone to recreate with did not appeal - he was accustomed to picking his own women. He'd never lacked offers. Then he met her and everything had changed.  
  
That was the trouble with assigned births. It couldn't be a one-night affair. It took time. Time enough for the couple to know each other. Usually time enough for them to hate the sight of each other. Not for him. The more he'd seen, the more he'd liked. He'd even found himself wanting to see her other times - not just for recreation and she'd felt the same. She wasn't that good at hiding her feelings, not from him.   
  
She must have known how he felt. She was good at reading people, not that she got much practice. But he'd never told her. He'd been too obsessed by his image to do that. It meant breaking regulations, and that meant he'd never make Captain. Then, before he knew it, she was pregnant - and it was over.  
  
He'd never tried to see her, he was too afraid of someone finding out his feelings, too afraid of even admitting them to himself. He'd kidded himself that he'd forgotten her. But he'd heard things. The day the news came, he'd been sitting in the mess. She'd been injured and the baby, their son, had died.   
  
No, that was wrong. The baby would have survived, but command hadn't deemed it 'worthwhile' to give it treatment. And she'd been classed as 'irredeemable'. She couldn't forgive them. She'd been transferred into the re-education scheme. By the time he saw her next, her personality had been wiped and re-built. The only thing he saw in her eyes was contempt.  
  
Crais mentally shook himself. How could this still bother him after so long? The women he'd known was dead, the one who lived would kill him on sight. He knew the answer even as he wondered. It bothered him because he had accepted his child's death, and that of the woman he cared about - because he was a Peacekeeper. Then, he'd justified their decisions. Now, free from their watchful eye, he felt something else.  
  
Guilt.  
  
It seemed that it wasn't going to go away. Still, he'd beat it. He would get to sleep if it killed him. With new purpose he rolled over and resolutely shut his eyes.  
  
***  
  
"Crais, are you awake?"  
  
Crais sighed. He hadn't got a wink of sleep all night.  
  
"What is it, Officer Sun?"  
  
"Talyn's found Moya."  
  
At least that gave him an excuse to get up. He pulled on his uniform and headed for the bridge. By the time he arrived, Talyn had Moya on the comms, and the crew headed for the transport pod.  
  
***  
  
They were met by a less-than-welcoming Jool.  
  
"I didn't expect you to meet us," Aeryn said.  
  
"Well it wasn't exactly my idea either. D'Argo and Chiana are off trying to resupply, Crichton and Pres are trying to fix her prowler and Rygel vanished at the first hint of work so I'm all that's left."  
  
Crais started. He couldn't have heard what he thought he'd heard. He must be hearing things, the result of not getting any sleep. That was definitely it. Then he heard Aeryn speak.  
  
"Pres?"  
  
"New girl," Jool replied, as if she'd been on Moya for cycles. "Crichton picked her up on some commerce planet and brought her abroad. With you gone, he figured we could use another pilot."  
  
"How much do you know about her?" Aeryn asked, suspicion showing on her face.  
  
"Sebacean, dresses like a Peacekeeper but isn't one anymore supposedly. Come to think of it, this ship seems to be a magnet for you ex-Peacekeeper types."  
  
"Along with spoiled brats," Aeryn said under her breath.  
  
Crais was standing stock still. He felt as if all the blood in his body had drained away. This had to be a dream. She was dead, dead, dead. She couldn't be on Moya, not really. If she was.... It must be an act. She'd fooled Crichton into letting her come aboard, she was probably feeding information to Scorpius right now.  
  
"Where is Crichton?" he asked, trying to keep his voice level.  
'Maintenance bay 2," Jool replied. "Don't tell me you actually want to see him?"  
Crais had already left.  
***  
  
Crais almost ran into the cargo bay. Panting and perspiring, he looked around wildly for signs of life, but saw no one.   
  
"Crichton, are you there?"  
  
Crichton popped up from behind the prowler. Crais jumped before he could stop himself.  
  
"My boy Crais! Don't tell me, you've missed me so much you just had to see me."  
  
He was so worked up, he didn't even give Crichton a dirty look. Still breathing heavily, he blurted it out.  
  
"Jool. Says you brought. Pres. On board."  
  
"You know her?" Crichton asked in surprise. "But she doesn't even beat people up, doesn't sound like your type."  
  
"You must. Put her. In a cell. Now!"  
  
"If I'm going to put anyone in a cell, you're still first on my list."  
  
"You don't understand!" Crais shouted, having recovered his breath. "She's a Peacekeeper - in special forces - she's probably feeding them information right now!"  
  
"Clarification," Crichton replied, in his most irritating superior tone, "she's a PK spy. Who has exceeded all possible limits for irreversible contamination and fought on our side. Who must be the worst spy ever since we've haven't had a peep out of Scorpius for weeks. And who is so un-Peacekeeper like she even gets some of my jokes?"  
  
"She must be," Crais said, suddenly feeling very confused.  
  
Crichton regarded him  
  
"I think you've gone nuts."  
  
"Listen to me," Crais said, with renewed conviction. "She will bring trouble for all of us."  
  
"Like you," Crichton said, with a maddening smirk.  
  
"We don't have time to debate this. We need to get her secured and then off the ship!"  
  
"Crais, if all you want to do is give orders, go back to Talyn. Maybe he'll listen."  
  
Crichton picked up winona, and strode out of the room.  
  
"Pilot," Crais barked, "where is Officer Benari?"  
  
"Officer who, Crais?"  
  
Crais sighed.   
  
"Pres, where is Pres?"  
  
"Pres is in her quarters."  
  
"And where are they?"  
  
"Tier 3, section 5."  
  
He started to run again.  
  
***  
  
He reached them and ran straight in. The room was deserted. Suddenly he heard a sound. He whirled round, whipping his pulse pistol from its holder...and found himself facing her, wrapped only in a bath robe. She stared at him.  
  
"Bialar," she said finally, with a mixture of shock, disbelief and wonder in her voice.  
  
Crais suddenly realised that he had his gun pointed at a half-dressed, unarmed woman and put it down. Then he looked at her.  
  
And it was her. The woman he thought he'd lost long ago. He had her back. And he wasn't a Peacekeeper any more. He could do anything he liked. Or maybe that should be anything she liked. He could say all the things he hadn't had the courage to say then. Starting right now.  
  
He took a deep breath.  
  
"Nice...robe," he said.  
  
"Thank you," she replied.  
  
It was a start. 


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2  
  
Crais opened his eyes, stretched and then jumped when his arm touched something. Then he remembered and relaxed. Even after half a cycle he still wasn't used to waking up with someone. He remembered the first morning - he'd had his pulse pistol pointed at her before he'd thought. He'd given her quite a shock. In fact, after that, it was amazing there'd even been a second morning, let alone...however many it was.  
  
He got up slowly, careful not to wake her. Half a cycle, had it really been so long? Sometimes it felt like yesterday, other times it felt like she'd been here forever...but not long enough to make him used to her. No matter how hard he'd tried, he still couldn't truly believe she was here to stay. Something deep within him told him it was too perfect and that made it suspicious. They were too many unanswered questions. Peacekeepers didn't just quit. The problem was, she couldn't give him the answers. She didn't even know them herself.  
  
He'd asked when she'd first come aboard. All she could tell him was that she'd woken up on the commerce planet where she met Crichton, alone and with only a prowler and pulse pistol to her name. She didn't know how she'd got there or why. The only thing she'd known was that she wasn't with the Peacekeepers - and she didn't want to go back.  
  
"But what do you remember before that?" he'd asked.  
  
"The last thing I remember is being in a medi-bay on the Command Carrier I was serving on. It was just after the accident."   
  
Her tone made it clear which accident she meant.  
  
"Pres," he'd said, "that was over ten cycles ago."  
  
The shock on her face when he'd said that hadn't been faked, he was sure of it. He'd even quizzed her a few times on the last ten cycles, anything that might make her slip up. Nothing. He believed her now. What he didn't believe was that something like this could happen by accident. You were a Peacekeeper for life, you couldn't escape and you weren't discharged - you were executed. How a Special Ops Commando could end up on a small planet, with Peacekeeper property and with no sign of pursuit was beyond Crais. No, his instincts told him something was very wrong.  
  
He'd said as much to Pres. She'd said he was paranoid - except she hadn't used quite those words. After all, she'd said, she was one prowler pilot with no special training and no security clearance. Why would the Peacekeepers waste time looking for her? It had taken time to explain that she'd moved into Special Ops ten years ago. Even she couldn't explain the memory loss, but she was sure there must be a rational explanation. She'd always been too trusting.  
  
Then he'd talked to Aeryn. She'd agreed with him. But there was no evidence that anything was wrong. Everything was normal, or as normal as it ever was. So, in the absence of proof, she'd chosen to side with Pres. He was paranoid.  
  
Crichton said he was just trying to avoid trusting Pres. Not that he'd asked Crichton, he'd come in while Crais was talking to Aeryn. In an attempt to stop himself being analysed by the entire crew, he'd stopped talking about it.  
  
But he hadn't stopped thinking about it.  
  
He sat down on the edge of the bed while he tied his hair back and regarded her. He'd come to like watching her while she slept. Not that he would ever let her know. She had a tendency to tell Crichton that sort of thing. Not to be mean, but because it never occurred to her that it would bother him. And if Crichton ever found out, he'd have to leave the ship. You could take the man out of the Peacekeepers, but you couldn't take all the Peacekeeper out of the man.  
  
Reasoning with himself that no one could possibly know, he bent over to kiss her.  
  
The next moment, her hand was around his throat.  
  
"Crais," she spat, "if you dare put your filthy hands anywhere near me, I'll shoot them off."  
  
Crais jerked back in horror. He met her eyes...and saw all the contempt and hatred he'd thought was a thing of the past.   
  
And then it was gone.  
  
"Bialar," she said, concern in her voice, "what's the matter? You look like you've seen a ghost."  
  
Instead of answering her, Crais used his comms.  
  
"Officer Sun, Crichton and Jool, please meet us in the medilab. I believe we may have a problem."  
  
***  
  
"I don't see the problem," Crichton said. "She doesn't seem any different to me."  
  
"As I have already explained," Crais said, trying to keep the irritation out of his voice, "it only lasted a moment."  
  
"WHAT only lasted a moment?" Pres exclaimed, trying for the fourth time to get an answer.  
  
"It is difficult to explain," Crais replied, feeling ashamed for not talking to her first. He'd dragged her down to the lab half-dressed with no explanation, no wonder she was upset. Funny, he'd never used to understand things like that. "For a moment, you...weren't there."  
  
"Weren't there," she repeated. "Could you be a little more specific?"  
  
"Unfortunately not," Crais replied. "It was as if you were gone and...another you was there. The you you were when you were a Commando."  
  
"So," said Crichton, "for a moment she doesn't remember, she was a person she... doesn't remember."  
  
"If you have nothing helpful to add please leave," Crais said testily, strongly regretting his decision to ask Crichton here. "I know what I saw."  
  
"Don't get your panties in a twist, Crais."  
  
"That includes stupid remarks!" Crais said, feeling more than a little on edge.  
  
"Excuse me!" Jool broke in loudly. "Do you actually want to know what I've found? Or did I get out of bed for nothing?"  
  
"Yes, Jool," Crais said, trying to calm himself down, "we want to know what you've found. Is there anything unusual?"  
  
"Everything's perfect, for a Sebacean anyway."  
  
"Nothing out of the ordinary at all?" Crais asked. He couldn't believe that he'd dreamed it.   
  
"Nothing. Well, except that her Teracin levels have dropped since I last examined her, which is probably normal."  
  
"Teracin?" Crais asked, something closely resembling horror rising rapidly in him.  
  
"Yes, Teracin," Jool said. "Is there something wrong with that?"  
  
"I would say so," Aeryn said, exchanging glances with Crais. "Teracin isn't usually found in Sebaceans. It's a neural suppressant." 


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

"A neural suppressant?" Crichton asked. "It's suppressing her brain waves?"  
  
"Not all of them," Crais said dully.  
  
"You mean, just the ones belonging to...." Crichton started.  
  
"Officer Benari, Special Forces commando," Aeryn finished.  
  
"So she's a spy?" Crichton asked.  
  
"Of course I'm not a spy!" Pres exclaimed, turning to Crais. "Bialar, you know that, right?"  
  
"Yes," Crais replied. "I do."  
  
"Crais, you were the one who was suspicious of her in the first place!" Aeryn interjected.  
  
"I realise that," Crais replied, "but I also know her and I know that she's not a spy."  
  
"Then explain the neural suppressant."  
  
"The neural suppressant is blocking her re-programmed personality traces and allowing her old personality to come through. Simultaneously, it's suppressing her memories, which is why she doesn't remember anything between her surgery and now."  
  
"Is that a educated guess?" asked Crichton.  
  
"It is a statement of fact," Crais replied. "We all know of the memory loss even though I am the only witness to the personality switch. It is the only logical conclusion."  
  
"But why would Peacekeeper command want to restore her old personality?" Aeryn asked. "They were the ones who tried to re-write it in the first place."  
  
"The only explanation I can think of," Crais said, "is to make her able to fool us. Or rather," he added, in a defeated tone, "me".  
  
"Clarification," Crichton said. "They gave her back her old personality on the off-chance she would come aboard Moya. Why?"  
  
"So she could gather information about us," Crais stated.  
  
"But I thought you said she wasn't a spy?"  
  
"She is not. She is Pres, our new crewmember, with no Peacekeeper ties, for as long as the Teracin is suppressing her personality. When it runs out, her old personality surfaces, and she's an ex-undercover spy with first hand experience of our methods and plans." Crais shook his head. "It's the perfect technique. What better than a spy who doesn't know they are one? They can't give themselves away."  
  
"There's just one problem," Jool interrupted. "Teracin is metabolised pretty fast. To keep the dosage high enough to suppress her memories, she'd have to be giving herself regular injections. And we'd have noticed personality changes every time the her levels began to drop."  
  
"Got an answer for that, Crais?" Crichton asked.  
  
"Not at present," Crais replied. "Jool, I want you to run some more tests, anything you can think of. Find me an answer."  
  
"Oh, yes sir," Jool said sarcastically.  
  
"Meanwhile, I suggest we move on with repairs."  
  
"Why is it always me who get stuck with the hard work?" Jool muttered to herself as they left.

  
* * *   
  
"Jool, do you have an answer for us?" Crais strode in, closely followed by Crichton. Pres was stretched out, unconscious on the bed.  
  
"Well, at first I looked for some kind of biological cause. I hypothesised that her body might have been genetically altered to secrete Teracin. But I found nothing. Then," she said, picking up a vid-chip, "I did a brain scan...and found this."  
  
"Pilot, can you put it on the clamshell?" Crichton asked.  
  
"Very well Commander."  
  
The image flashed up and rotated.   
  
"What is that?" Crichton asked.  
  
"As far as I can tell," Jool replied, "it's a neural stimulator."  
  
"Would you care to elaborate?"   
  
"If you hadn't interrupted, I would have done. It's stimulating her brain to produce high doses of Teracin. My guess is, it's been there for some time."  
  
"Say half a cycle," Crichton said, glancing at Crais.  
  
"You said her Teracin levels have dropped. Why?" Crais asked.  
  
"Mechanics isn't really my field, but my guess is that - it's falling apart."  
  
"Falling apart?" Crichton asked.  
  
"Half a cycle's continuous use with no maintenance, it's hardly surprising."  
  
"So, as it falls apart her Teracin levels will continue to drop, her old personality will resurface and…."  
  
"And Pres will be lost," Crais finished quietly.  
  
* * *   
  
  
Crais sat outside the cell, watching. They'd had to put her in there eventually. Her old personality had begun surfacing so often she couldn't be trusted. Seeing her now, in there, fighting a losing battle to stay alive, was the hardest thing he'd ever done.   
  
He hated feeling helpless, he liked knowing he was in control of the situation. And now here he was, unable to do anything but watch while the woman he loved (there he'd admitted it) gradually faded away.  
  
He glanced at her. Her personality was switching so fast now it was impossible to tell which was which. Her expression, which for days had swung between love and mindless hate, was now reduced to a glassy stare. The battle had moved inside her mind.  
  
Crais got up. He couldn't stand to watch any more. Not when he couldn't do anything to stop it. With one last glance back, he headed to command. At least if he kept busy, he might be able to keep her off his mind.  
  
* * *  
  
Crais sat in command, staring out of the viewscreen. He'd tried to work, but he couldn't keep his mind from drifting. Now he was just trying not to think at all.  
  
A door opened behind him.  
  
"Crais...Bialar, is there anything I can do?"  
  
Crais groaned inwardly. As well intentioned as it might be, Crichton's insistence that talking about a problem was the best way of solving it was shredding his already frayed nerves.  
  
"There is nothing," he replied.  
  
"You know, talking about it probably would make you feel better."  
  
"I *do not* wish to talk about it. I wish to forget it!"  
  
"Fine," Crichton said. "When you give up on that, please let me know."  
  
Just as Crais was about to retort, Pilot's voice came over the comms.  
  
"Crais, Crichton, you must come immediately."  
  
"What is it Pilot?"  
  
"Someone has taken one of the transport pods and left the ship!"  
  
* * *  
  
"Pilot, who is it?"  
  
"According to my readings, it is…Pres."  
  
"Stop her Pilot!" Crais shouted.  
  
"I cannot, Crais."  
  
Crais turned to Crichton.  
  
"We must go after her, she doesn't know what she's doing!"  
  
"Yes she does, Crais. She's gone. All that's left is the Peacekeeper. There's nothing we can do."  
  
Crais' shoulders dropped.  
  
"I know," he said. "I know".  
  
Crichton looked at him.   
  
"You know where I am," he said and left.  
  
Then Crais was alone. Again.  
  
* * *  
  
Crais walked into his quarters. He felt like sleeping forever. He took off his tunic and threw it over a chair – and noticed the vid-chip on the table.  
  
Half excited, half afraid and all curious, he displayed it.  
  
An image he remembered all too well appeared on the screen.  
  
"Crais," Benari said, with an evil smile. "What a pity you're alive. Just wanted to pass on Peacekeeper command's compliments. You gave us everything we expected and more."  
  
Crais' head dropped.  
  
"With any luck," Benari continued, "we will never meet again. But don't worry Bialar," his name said in a mocking tone, "you may be a disgrace and a traitor, but I expect your child to make an excellent Peacekeeper."  
  
The image flicked off.  
  
And, for Crais, everything went black.  
  
  
  
  
  



	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4  
  
  
"Crais, what the frell are you on? You wouldn't have a chance of even getting on board, let alone getting off it alive."   
  
Crais turned to Aeryn, his face tense.  
  
"You may not have noticed, Officer Sun, but I did not ask you to evaluate my plan. I merely informed you of my decision. It need not concern you."  
  
"Your plan concerns Talyn and therefore it concerns me and everyone else here."  
  
"Talyn and I have already discussed it. We are in agreement."  
  
"Does he have any idea of the risks involved? The two of you against a command carrier full of Peacekeepers, it's suicide."  
  
"I have explained the risks to him and he has agreed to go."  
  
"Willingly?"  
  
"Officer Sun, you know better than anyone that Talyn cannot be coerced. If he were not willing I would be powerless to force him."  
  
"That still doesn't change the fact that you are talking about taking him into a death trap. You can't seriously believe that the two of you alone could infiltrate a command carrier?"  
  
"I will not have my child raised by Peacekeepers! If I have to sacrifice my life, then I will do so."  
  
"And Talyn's life? Are you willing to sacrifice that too?"  
  
"I sincerely hope that will not be necessary. Nevertheless, as I have explained, Talyn is aware of the risks and has agreed to join me. I merely wished to inform you of our decision. We intend to leave immediately and there is nothing more to discuss."  
  
"Wrong, Crais, you forgot one thing," Crichton said, as Crais turned to leave.  
  
"And what is that?" Crais asked.  
  
"I've seen this movie and I'm pretty sure now is the point where you ask for volunteers."  
  
"Volunteers?"  
  
"To go with you."  
  
"I do not require any 'volunteers'."  
  
"Oh come on Crais, you and Talyn against a command carrier? Aeryn's right, you need backup."  
  
"There does not appear to be anyone else available - unless you want to volunteer?"  
  
Crichton rose from Aeryn's side, and came to stand by Crais.  
  
"Yeah," he said. "I do."  
  
"John you can't be serious," Aeryn said.  
  
"Trust me," Crichton replied.  
  
Aeryn groaned. "I was afraid that would be necessary."  
  
***  
  
Crichton stood in his quarters, packing his bag. He heard a noise at the door and turned.  
  
"Hey Big D, come to talk me out of it?"  
  
"Someone obviously needs to," D'Argo replied. "Why the hezmana are you going along with Crais' plan?"  
  
Crichton didn't answer for a moment. He pushed the last item into his bag and zipped it shut. Then he spoke.  
  
"Because I know how I'd feel if it were me."  
  
"What exactly do you mean?"  
  
"C'mon D'Argo. Your son was in trouble and we ended up robbing a shadow depository to save him. We nearly got killed, but you never thought about that. All you knew was that your son was in trouble, and you had to try and save him. Is it so hard to believe that Crais feels the same?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
"Why?"  
  
"Because it's Crais."  
  
"Yeah, I know. But you've seen him. This really has him crazy. And besides, Crais is a trained strategist. You really think he would attempt something like this if he was thinking rationally?"  
  
"Crais' plan is insane and suicidal. And even though I would do exactly the same thing myself, it is still insane and suicidal."  
  
Crichton smiled.  
  
"Does that mean you're coming with us?"  
  
D'Argo grunted and left.  
  
Crichton smiled.  
  
"And then they were three."  
  
***  
  
Crichton entered the maintenance bay and headed for the transport pod.   
  
"John, wait."  
  
"I thought you said this was suicide?"  
  
"I did," Aeryn replied.  
  
"Then why are you coming with us?"  
  
Aeryn's soldier face flickered for an instant.  
  
"I've already lost you once," she said.  
  
***  
  
"So, where are we headed?"  
  
Crais turned as Crichton, Aeryn and D'Argo strode onto the bridge.  
  
"Talyn has located the command carrier, but it is quite a distance away. It will take some time to get there."  
  
"So what's the plan?"  
  
"I hope to determine that before we arrive."  
  
"You don't have a plan? You wanna just climb the tower and rescue the princess without finding out how high it is? Could you not have mentioned this before we signed up?"  
  
Crais smiled despite himself.  
  
"Would you still have come?"  
  
***  
  
"Myself and Officer Sun are the obvious candidates. We have the most extensive knowledge of Peacekeeper procedure."  
  
"One problem, Crais - you're both renegades. They see you and you'll be dead as a dodo."  
  
"A what?"  
  
"It's a...you know that really isn't the issue here."  
  
"Fine. Crichton, you will have to lead us in. Myself and Officer Sun will have to affect some sort of disguise and enter through less obvious roots."  
  
"The service ducts."  
  
"That was what I had in mind."  
  
"And what will I do?" D'Argo asked.  
  
"You must remain on Talyn. A Luxan on a command carrier is too rare an event for you not to be challenged."  
  
"I do nothing while you risk your lives? That does not appeal."  
  
"Crais is right, D. You'd be captured in a minute."  
  
"I will not be a prisoner again."  
  
"Then it is settled." 


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5  
  
  
"Crais, no offence, but you look ridiculous."  
  
"Did I ask for your opinion, Crichton?"  
  
"Have you looked in the mirror?"  
  
Aeryn's idea to dress up as Techs had been sensible. Unfortunately the uniforms they had got hold of were less than a perfect fit. Crais' had been designed for someone rather...well, smaller. They'd given up trying to get it to fasten long ago, but it was still stretched to breaking point. In fact, it was difficult to guess which part was going to go first. Which was probably why he hadn't tried to sit down.  
  
"These uniforms are necessary to the success of the mission. They are a necessary hardship," Crais almost pulled it off. What gave him away was the grimace as he tried to walk.  
  
***  
  
"What can I do for you, Captain?"  
  
The Junior Officer Crichton had approached was surprising forthcoming.  
  
"I need to find one Officer Benari."  
  
"What's her duty assignment?"  
  
"Special forces. We have urgent business that must be discussed in person."  
  
"Special forces command is on tier 6. That's your most likely target."  
  
"Thank you. My compliments to your Commanding Officer."  
  
As Crichton strode away, the Officer spoke over his comms.  
  
"Sir, they've arrived."  
  
***  
  
Crais and Aeryn were crawling through the service ducts.   
  
"You're sure this is the right way?"  
  
"This is the way to tier six yes. Keep crawling."  
  
Just then, Aeryn heard a ripping sound behind her.  
  
"What was that?"  
  
There was a short silence.  
  
"Nothing," Crais replied.  
  
***  
  
"This is where we part," Crais said.  
  
"You think he'll still be in the nursery?"  
  
"It's the best chance I have, and security is lax there."  
  
He began to crawl away.  
  
"Crais," Aeryn said.  
  
He turned.  
  
"Good luck."  
  
"Thank you, Officer Sun."  
  
***  
  
Crais reached the hatch leading to the nursery. Removing his pulse pistol from its holder, he took a deep breath and slowly opened it.  
  
He found himself in a large, dimly lit room. Several rows of cots could be seen. He began to scan the names on the charts at the end of them.  
  
At last, in the corner, he found what he was looking for. He scanned the child's chart and started.  
  
"Tauvo. She called him Tauvo?"  
  
"Yes Bialar, consider it an affectionate gesture."   
  
Crais spun round. Seated in the other opposite corner was Benari. Crais cursed himself, how could he have forgotten to check the room was secure?  
  
"At first," she continued, "I considered calling him Bialar. But then, I didn't want him to bear the name of a traitor."  
  
Despite his situation, Crais found an ironic smile on his lips.  
  
"You almost make it sound as if you cared."  
  
"But I do care Bialar. This little insect has great value to me - as bait."  
  
"Bait?" Crais said, feeling suddenly winded.  
  
"You didn't seriously think you could infiltrate a Command Carrier did you? I never realised you were quite so naive. Peacekeeper Command had a plan to capture you, and it couldn't have worked better. You've gone soft. The Bialar Crais I knew would never have fallen into such an obvious trap."  
  
"The Bialar Crais you knew is dead, just like the Presa Benari I knew. I came here for one reason only - my child."  
  
"You were willing to die for him, how heroic. And you will die, but not in saving him. I've been waiting a long time for this."  
  
She produced a pulse pistol from the shadows and aimed it at Crais.  
  
Crais waited.  
  
Suddenly she spun round and fired a shot.   
  
"Noooooooooo," Crais yelled.   
  
His own survival forgotten, he ran to her and grabbed her by the neck.  
  
"How could you do this!? Is there not one part of you that remembers who you are? Do you have any idea what you've just done?! You've just killed your own son!"  
  
Even through her struggles to breathe, she managed one word.  
  
"So?"  
  
Suddenly he released her.  
  
"You're right, I am not the Bialar Crais you once knew. He accepted the death of his child, I do not. Kill me or I will kill you."  
  
"It would be my pleasure."  
  
She pointed the gun at Crais again. Before she could fire, another shot rang out. She slumped and her gun went spinning across the floor.  
  
"Crais! Do you require assistance?"  
  
"Not anymore, Officer Sun, but I must congratulate you on your timing. We must leave immediately."  
  
"But what about...." Aeryn's question ended at the look on Crais's face.  
  
"I'm...sorry," she said, struggling to find the words.  
  
"We must leave. It appears we had some assistance getting in, getting out will not be so easy."  
  
"Crichton is waiting for us on the landing tier."  
  
"I will follow shortly."  
  
With a quick backward glance, Aeryn left.  
  
Crais turned back to the figure now on the floor.  
  
"I hoped to save you too," he said, "but there's nothing left to save."  
  
He turned, walked to the hatch and opened it. As he was about to climb inside he heard a voice.  
  
"Bialar!"  
  
It was a voice he knew well.  
  
"Pres," he said, "you're alive! How?"  
  
"Every so often I regain control. I don't know why. It only lasts a few minutes. And, Bialar...." she broke down. "I remember everything!"  
  
He knew how that would hurt her.  
  
"Come with me," he said.  
  
"I can't, in a moment I'll lose control again."  
  
"What can I do?"  
  
"Kill me, Bialar, please. I can't watch myself killing and hurting and not be able to do a thing to stop it. I killed my own son, our son. I should die and I don't want to live."  
  
"But...."  
  
"Now, Bialar, please. Help me."  
  
A million thoughts ran through Crais's head. But he raised his pulse pistol.  
  
Then he spoke.  
  
"My greatest regret was always not showing you how deeply I loved you."  
  
"You didn't have to," she said. "I knew."  
  
"Maybe so, but that wasn't an excuse. But maybe now I can right that. I just wish it wasn't in this way."  
  
"There's nothing more you can do for me."  
  
Crais paused, something resembling a tear in his eye.  
  
"I know," he said simply.  
  
Then he raised his weapon and fired. She fell down dead. Without looking back he walked to the hatch. At the hatch, he paused for a moment. Without turning round, he spoke.  
  
"I love you," he said simply.  
  
Then he climbed into the hatch and left.  
  
***  
  
Crais sat on Moya's bridge, staring out of the viewscreen.  
  
The door swished open behind him.  
  
"Do you want any dinner?" Crichton asked. "Because if you do you'd better come fast. Rygel's only filled one of his stomachs and the food's almost gone."  
  
"No, thank you."  
  
"I'll save you some. That way, when you're ready to eat, it will still be there."  
  
"Thank you," Crais said again.  
  
Crichton left.  
  
Crais sat, and stared some more. Then the thoughts came.  
  
He'd had a brother - and he was dead. He'd had two sons - and both were dead. He'd had a lover - and she was dead. He'd had parents - and they were far from here. Everyone he'd loved had been taken from him. And all because of Peacekeepers.   
  
Crais looked down at the uniform he wore. He wasn't a Peacekeeper any more. So why did he wear it? He knew now. He'd always felt the ties that still made him belong. The woman he loved, or once loved, had been there. But not any more.  
  
He got up and headed to his quarters. It was time for a change.  
  
He wasn't a Peacekeeper any more. 


End file.
